Vergessenheit
by Yukishiro Tomoe1
Summary: A connection between two minds, forged almost by accident.


Vergessenheit  
(Oblivion)  
by Yukishiro Tomoe  
  
  
Schuldig dove into the psychic void that spread out before him, the familiar rush of heady delight he always felt when entering another's thoughts sending shivers through his brain. He had not been joking when he had once told Brad that nothing was better than reading minds. What could be more pleasurable than having another's entire self utterly vulnerable to you, their most private thoughts laid bare for you to see and manipulate?  
  
He sank in deeper, reveling in the silence, before realizing that it was far too silent.  
In this mind, there were no thoughts to be found.  
The telepath paused, momentarily taken aback. Then, his famous smirk returned.  
  
He was Schuldig, the Mastermind of Schwarz. He could enter any mind, absorb all of its information, and even control its thought processes if he so wished. Now, even with this one's apparent lack of thoughts, he remained undeterred. Just because a slate was blank, it did not mean that you couldn't scribble on it a bit. This one didn't even have any shields up, for crying out loud.  
  
But all the same...  
How then was this thorough blankness achieved?  
  
It was not as if he knew.  
Or cared.  
  
There were no mental shields up that he could see.  
There were no shields to stop him, so he would get through.  
He always did.  
  
Smirking wickedly, the telepath let a long, spine-tingling howl echo through the empty space - a skill he had learned from dear Farfarello, although he only used his mind-voice for it, of course. The sharp sound tore along the corridors of the shadowy void like a runaway thunderbolt, leaving an even greater silence in its wake. As the quiet once again seeped into everything around him, Schuldig felt himself drawn forward.  
  
He could have sworn he had sensed something stir, if only for a second.  
A response?  
  
The smirk widened. *Come out, liebe.*  
  
Silence.  
  
*I know you're there.*   
Once again, his telepathic words received no answer.  
  
Fine.  
Time to play it rough.  
  
Smirking viciously enough to incinerate his surroundings if they had been physical, Schuldig gathered his power and latched onto this empty mind as strongly as he could.  
  
*I am the master of your mind,* he hissed exultantly into the void, relishing the sharp sound of the words as they issued forth.   
*Give your thoughts to me.*  
*I will devour them.*  
*I will invade your dreams and take your memories.*  
*Mesh with your mind.*  
*Get under your skin.*  
*Your brain is mine to plunder.*  
*It doesn't matter to me what should happen to it.*  
*It is an expendable commodity which exists for my purposes alone.*  
*Your brain will call me its master.*  
*And I call no--*  
  
He stopped. A prescence had entered the mind. An aura of silver moonbeams and shades and dying flowers, spun together with the faint notes of a haunting melody. Like mist before dawn it drifted up to Schuldig, swirling around him, mingling with his senses. So quickly...he tried to clear his head. A voice came to him. It was the barest of gossamer whispers, yet the two words it spoke echoed throughout his head, throughout his entire being.  
  
*Shut up.*  
  
He barely had time to draw a breath before he was *thrown* -- flung from this ghostly wasteland of a mind and thrust back into his own head with a force so great it made him gasp. His head swam with grey mist; disjointed fragments of thoughts echoed around his muddled brain. He felt as if all the energy in his body had been sucked away.  
  
"Schuldig?"  
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes. It took great effort, for the lids felt far too heavy. Brad was standing over him, his usual cold expression doing little to conceal the actual concern beneath it. Schuldig did not reply. He sat up, gazing vacantly ahead in a manner that the tall American had never seen. The brilliant green eyes, misted over with the afterglow of mental connection, were focused on something else, far away.  
  
In the dark recesses of his mind, beyond the mist and the confusion and this horrible fuzzy feeling, if he listened hard enough, Schuldig could hear the echoes of that voice.  
Now, however, it sounded different...  
  
*Mama! Papa! No! It can't be...no!*  
  
Grief that was overwhelming, all the more when mixed with shock. Storm building in the sky and the spirit. Thunder. The beat of tears falling, feet running, hearts pounding...  
  
Thump. Thump. Thump.  
  
*Oniichan!*  
  
The beat quickened as it grew louder.  
  
Thump. Thump. Thump.  
  
*Oniichan...!*  
  
It grew louder still, quickening to a frantic pace.  
  
Thump. Thump. THUMP.  
  
Then--  
  
*Oniichan! They're--!  
  
THUMP!  
  
Like a flash of lightning, an explosion of pain ripped through the two worlds, shattering the barrier between them. Shards of past, present, and future rained down together, a razor-sharp shower falling into oblivion.  
  
Thump...thump...thump...  
  
Slowing heartbeats. A small voice calling out through the encircling numbness.  
  
*Oniichan...save...yourself...*  
  
Just a little voice, a soft voice, hardly more than an echo, a flicker through otherwise endless shadow as dark blue eyes closed, perhaps never to open again. Just a murmuring sound made in the realm between waking and sleep, a breath taken in one's last conscious moment, a whisper hovering on the edge of encroaching silence.  
  
Just a pause before emptiness was embraced, and everything stopped, everything became--  
  
*...Oniichan...*  
  
Nothing.  
  
Schuldig's eyes opened.  
  
"Vergessenheit," he whispered.  
Then the silence embraced him as well.  
  
Brad was momentarily stunned as the telepath fell into his arms, completely unconscious.  
In a world where memories swirled like silver mist, where dark blue eyes closed with a whisper and tears fell with the sound of heartbeats, his heart would sleep.  
  
Outside, the sky had darkened, and thunder rumbled ominously. A few drops of wet splashed on the windowsill...tears from heaven.  
  
Someplace far away, a young man knelt in the ruins of a life. Blood the colour of his hair stained him and the figure he held in his arms while his heart broke in the rain.  
  
He lifted his face to the sky as the shards of past, present, and future all rained down together.  
  
Into oblivion.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It would be nice if I had seen more than the first episode of Weiß Kreuz, but it was on the bus to camp and there was not enough time. So forgive me if this isn't terribly clear in terms of who is who, proper details, etc. Everything I know comes from listening to someone's stories about it...  
If anything looks like plagiarism and the like, it is purely a coincidence. But please tell me anyway so that I can fix it.  
~ Tomoe.  



End file.
